Tw: this book will deal with triggering topics. If you are easily triggered this is not the story for you, thank you.
(Book two in the Starlight series)
─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Danika Archeron had been through hell.
Forced to go back to Spring C...
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"There exists a tipping point between gods and monsters."
─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
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I WAS death and wind and night. And I could not be stopped. I did not care. I did not feel. I simply existed. My very being honed into a weapon sharp and deadly and unbeatable.
Darkness was my song; death was my melody; wrath was my rhythm; revenge, my refrain. A cacophony of hundreds of sounds and instruments coursing through my thoughts to fuel my one basic instinct. Rage. A cool, icy rage that spiraled in my veins and lit with a frozen fire.
Madness. A state of mind resulting in an undeniable state of frenzy and chaos. Currently I found myself ruling on an iron throne beside that very feeling. Reigning over each and every one of my other emotions and cutting them down one by one if they stood in my way.
My feet carried me, swift and silent as I ran across the branch below me. Such a silky movement that it scarcely rustled the wood at all.
The midnight black leathers that adorned my body made no more than a whisper of sound, blending in with the night winds rolling past. Roaring in response to the magic I had let loose. Screaming. Tearing through the world. Searching. Scouring.
Words. Infinite words. And yet no words at all.
I jumped. Folding myself into starlight and shadow, winnowing from the air wrapping around me the second my feet left the branch. Finding purchase on the tree across from me not a millisecond later.
Tree to tree, I winnowed, no more than a blur of white hair. Moving so fast even the beasts and monsters on the forest floor could not find me. My eyes had adapted to the dark. Seeing as clear as if it were day with the small bit of magic I had used.
I leapt through the trees, shadow and night until I was on the outskirts of the place we'd been attacked, all the while tugging on that bond, searching for that familiar wall on the other side of it.
